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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24479263">Tug Of War</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/2kishima/pseuds/2kishima'>2kishima</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, High School, M/M, One Shot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:08:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>666</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24479263</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/2kishima/pseuds/2kishima</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh, how the mighty fall in love.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ushijima Wakatoshi &amp; Reader, Ushijima Wakatoshi/Reader, Ushijima Wakatoshi/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>120</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Tug Of War</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i wrote this back in 2017 and it has been lying in my drafts since lmao....</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everyday he sees you at school, laughing and exchanging banter with your classmates. That jovial look on your face was what he enjoyed seeing the most. You were admirable. It was attractive. Maybe because of that, he looked forward to school. Maybe it was just something he had always wanted to experience—being genuinely happy. It was probably just to fill up the void that was in him. The emptiness, which he had always been regarding it as "normal". </p>
<p>He sees you skipping down the corridors, helping people out along the way, greeting your teachers, and smiling—oh so bright as ever. Everyone liked you. It was in a good kind of way. And of course, "everyone" was inclusive of him.</p>
<p>Anyone has a chance to at least make contact with you, it was just a matter of time. </p>
<p>And his time, was now.</p>
<p>"Good morning!" You greeted him, brimming with glee, making him ponder on how could you be so positive even in the morning. Usually, people would dread school—students, specifically. It was refreshing, albeit weird, and he liked it. </p>
<p>He was not a man of words, calling him a "man of action" wouldn't substantiate either. He was nervous yes, it was not his first time interacting with girls (usually girls would confess to him, and he'll reject them. Why? "I don't know you, sorry.") But you felt different. How so? Deciphering his thoughts, maybe he could get a clear explanation for this weird feeling. Or maybe, he could ask you directly, why do you make me feel this way? But that would feel demanding. The possibility of him scaring you off is dangerous. He didn't want that. He wanted to be with you. But—</p>
<p>"Hello...? Good morning? Are you okay?" </p>
<p>Oh. He had been staring at you. He forgot to give his response, all because he was thinking about you, when you were just right in front of him. You were waving frantically at him, seeking for his attention. His eyes widened, and a slight tint of pink appeared on his cheeks and rose to his ears. What kind of response should he give? Should he ask you? What if he messes it up? What if he—</p>
<p>"H-hello." God, that was unbelievably normal. He discreetly bit his lips, biting away the nervousness that was conquering him. Although, being discreet doesn't mean he couldn't get caught. "You're not okay aren't you? Your face is red! Do you need to go to the infirmary?" You panicking made him panic. The worry in your eyes, that genuine concern you harbor, it truly warmed his heart. It was not everyday he could experience this, actually, not even in years.</p>
<p>He could've sworn to God the face you made, your tiny movements, were the cutest, most precious thing he had ever seen. At that point of time, he never wanted anyone to look, to take even a short glimpse at it—at you. Was he this possessive? He had never remembered being possessive over someone, save for his current title of being champion in volleyball.</p>
<p>Not waiting to hear his answer, you took his hand—God, his large, calloused hand, and pulled him towards the direction of the infirmary. His mind was buzzing with thoughts, but at the same time, his mind was blank. He might as well be considered sick. Your small hand fitted perfectly into his. It felt like you were the final piece of the puzzle which could fill up his void, his emptiness. Your hand was so soft, and he greedily, wanted to hold both of yours. </p>
<p>Holy gods.</p>
<p>The sudden realization which dawned unto him that it wasn't you who pulled him into this mess. He was, by himself, drawn to you. It was by his own accord. That tug of war between you and him that he's playing right now? He was surrendering himself. Surrendering himself to you. He would gladly fall, as he had already fallen.</p>
<p>Fallen in love with you.</p>
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